“That’s it?” I look at him and shake my head. “That’s how you’re gonna leave it? All vague and noncommittal, and up to me to figure out on my own, without a heads-up?”

“Thatwas your heads-up,” he says, clearly committed to leaving it there.

I sigh and close my eyes, but I don’t get upset, don’t read his mind, don’t press any further. He’s got my best interests at heart, convinced he’s trying to spare me from something. So I decide to let it go. Aware of something he’s not—that whatever it is, I can face it.

Nothing can break me anymore.

He flips down the mirrored visor and squints at his reflection, combing his fingers through his longish, glossy, brown hair—the cool new look I’m still getting used to—and checking his teeth, his nostrils, his profile (both sides), before deeming himself ready for the public and slapping the visor back up again.

“Are we ready?” I reach for my bag as I open my door, his nod prompting me to add, “But just so we’re clear, whose sideare you on?”

He tosses his backpack onto his shoulder and shoots me a look. The glint in his gaze a perfect match for his smile when he says, “Mine. I’m on my side.”

Well, he certainly wasn’t kidding. Nor was he exaggerating. On the one hand, everything is totally and completely different—a radical shift has clearly taken place. While on the other, to the less observant among us (aka the teachers and administrators), everything appears exactly the same.

The “senior tables” are still populated by seniors—only now it’s the ones who were never allowed to even walk past, much less sit there before.

And instead of a bitchy, blond fashionista holding court—a bitchy, brunette fascist has taken her place.

A bitchy, brunette fascist whose gaze targets me the second Miles and I step past the gate.

Glancing away from her adoring group of fans just long enough to narrow her eyes and clench her jaw as she quickly takes us in. The look lasting for only a second before she’s turned back to them, but it’s still enough to give Miles pause.

“Great,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “It looks like I’ve justunofficially chosen sides.” He winces. “Or at least that’s whatshe clearly thinks.”

“No worries,” I whisper, gaze scanning the area, searching for Damen even though I try to pretend I’m merely refamiliarizing myself with the school grounds. “I promise I won’t—”

I see him.

Damen.

“—I promise I won’t let her—”

I swallow hard and drink him right in.

Lounging on a bench, long legs splayed out before him, resting back on his hands as he tilts his gorgeous face toward the sun…

“—I promise I won’t let her hurt—”

I struggle to finish, but it’s no use. I know the instant I see it thatthis is what Miles was so covertly trying to warn me about.

Not wanting to state it bluntly, correctly assuming I’d freak—pretty much just like I am—but not wanting me to just stumble upon it either and feel sucker-punched in the very worst way.

Miles did what he could—I’ll give him that. He did his best to spare me this brand of pain. But still, no matter how much he tried to prepare me, there’s just no denying a sight like this.

When I said that nothing could break me, I was wrong.

Dead wrong.

But then again, I never really imagined I’d find him like this.

He talks to her softly, his face gentle and kind, distracting her from the cruel comments and looks that come from just about everyone who passes by. But as long as Damen’s there, that’s as bad as it’ll get.

No one will dare venture anywhere near. His presence alone is what keeps them away. Keeps her safe.

As long as he’s with her, she’s spared from their wrath.

But it’s not like understanding why he does it makes it any easier to watch. And every second I stand there—a part of me withers.

A part of me dies.

Miles grabs hold of my elbow, determined to steer me away, but it’s no use. I’m stronger than him and I refuse to be swayed.

Knowing it’s just a matter of moments until he’ll sense my presence, my energy. And even though my insides are churning, my heart breaking, my hands shaking, even though I’m terrified of what I might find in his gaze once he does locate me—I still need it to happen.

Need to know what it means.

Need to know if she now occupies the space I once filled in his life.

When he sees me, when his eyes go wide and his lips part in a way that completely transforms him—my breath stalls in my throat.

The moment feeling like forever, like it’s somehow suspended in time. Though it’s not long before she sees it too, following his gaze all the way to me before quickly looking away. Her former surplus of confidence now diminished for good.

“Ever—please,” Miles urges, his voice at my ear. “Remember what I told you.Nothing is what it seems.

Everything’s been turned upside down. The former D list is now the A list—and the old A list, well, they’ve pretty much disbanded, most of them are in hiding, some have even left. Nothing is the same anymore.”

But even though I hear it, the words flow right through me.

I don’t care about any of that. I only care about Damen and the way his gaze circles mine.

And though I wait for it—a tulip, either real or imagined, or some other kind of sign—nothing comes.